


gold & silver

by Waywarder



Series: Simply Having an Ineffable Christmastime [10]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anxious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Pining, holiday fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:20:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21747421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waywarder/pseuds/Waywarder
Summary: In which we see an earlier Christmas.Part of Drawlight's 31 Days of Ineffables challenge!
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Simply Having an Ineffable Christmastime [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1558789
Comments: 6
Kudos: 56





	gold & silver

_Let us see another Christmas._

The Christmas tree in the foyer of the Dowling estate stood easily over three stories tall. And, naturally, there was a highly coordinated color scheme. The entire, enormous tree was covered in gold and silver. The goal was obviously something very elegant and nearly Victorian, but in practice… well, the thing was just so _sparkly._ Aziraphale spotted the particularly cloying, frilly angel perched at the top of the tree, and he winced. 

Aziraphale loved Christmas, certainly, but even he found this a little much. He had standards, you know. 

_Americans,_ he thought, primly. 

A familiar sound of high heels clicking against the foyer drew his attention. Aziraphale did his best to stifle a laugh as he observed Crowley’s expression upon encountering the tree. It was as though the gigantic, shiny Christmas tree had done something to offend him personally. Aziraphale knew he would hear all about it over drinks later, and sure enough:

“TACKIEST BLOODY THING I’VE EVER SEEN,” Crowley shouted, almost gleefully, cabernet sloshing out of his glass. 

“It is, isn’t it?” Aziraphale groaned, bringing a hand to his forehead. “Whatever happened to a nice, tasteful green tree? It isn’t even real, you know!”

Crowley’s eyes glinted over his wine glass. “Well, maybe if the gardener wasn’t such complete rubbish…”

Aziraphale laughed. He wanted to say something clever in response, but he was too drunk and festive and happy. Over the course of their long… acquaintance-ship ( _Aziraphale drank_ ), they’d never worked as closely or for as long as they had over the course of this last year. It was really quite lovely, having near-constant excuses to invite Crowley back to the bookshop to compare notes, to swap stories, to drink well into the night. Crowley who hadn’t taken his lipstick off from earlier that day, and really looked quite beautiful, Aziraphale couldn’t help but acknowledge. 

Crowley clapped his hands on his thighs, and made his way to standing. Aziraphale hated this part. _Time to go._ Aziraphale’s brain whirred with possible methods of convincing Crowley to stay. _More wine? A story I’ve never told you?_

_If I kissed you, would you stay? If I tangled my fingers in your hair, would you promise to never leave again?_

Aziraphale felt himself blush at the ease of thought. _You’re just drunk and excited about Christmas,_ he tried to tell himself, sadly. Because that was an easier thing to tell himself than, _It’s never going to happen, my dear. Leave it alone._

“Oh, hey!” Crowley perked up suddenly, fishing around in his pocket. How anything could possibly fit in there, Aziraphale assumed must have been via means of demonic intervention, but there you are. 

Crowley found whatever he was looking for, and went to hide it behind his back before Aziraphale could catch a glimpse of it. And then he sauntered towards the angel, evidently pretty pleased with himself. Aziraphale smiled. Surely this meant that Crowley had been up to no good, but goodness, he was lovely when he was happy. 

“Got you something,” And with that, Crowley pressed something cool into Aziraphale’s hand. Aziraphale nearly jumped at the contact. Nearly gasped out loud. Nearly tightened his fingers around Crowley’s wrist and dragged him forward for a kiss. 

Instead Aziraphale looked down to see what was in his hand. 

It was a little gold and silver snowflake ornament. A very familiar little gold and silver snowflake ornament.

“Oh, Crowley, you didn’t,” breathed Aziraphale, not even remotely scandalized. Impressed, rather. Delighted, even. 

“Thought you’d want something to remember our first proper holiday as godfathers,” Crowley smirked. 

And then the demon and the angel lingered for a moment, each clearly with more to say. Aziraphale opened his mouth, clutching the little snowflake in both hands now, but--

“Merry Christmas, Aziraphale,” Crowley said, softly. 

And he turned to go.

_It was really quite lovely,_ Aziraphale tried half-heartedly reminding himself. _Having near-constant excuses to break your own heart. Being an idiot and wanting what you can’t have._

Aziraphale sat on his sofa, still cradling the stolen snowflake, running his thumbs over the interwoven gold and silver of the thing. 

Despite what the Christmas songs tell you, angels don’t sing either. Aziraphale, of course, was one of the weird ones, bless him.

“ _Faithful friends who are dear to us,_ ” Aziraphale warbled quietly to himself. “ _Will be near to us once more…_ ”

_Someday soon we all will be together  
If the fates allow  
Until then we'll have to muddle through somehow  
So, have yourself a merry little Christmas now_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Have a lovely day!


End file.
